The Choices We Make
by ofkilljoysandslytherins
Summary: To submit or to sacrifice? Hermione finds herself snatched away from all that she holds dear. Now she must navigate a deadly maze of lies and deception. Can she trust the evasive Malfoy heir? And why on Earth would her new husband decide to marry the very thing he hates? Can she even muster the will and strength to kill the only obstacle in the way of peace? Tomione/Dramione
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! Just a few announcements before we jump in. This will be the first and last A/N. I promise. **

***This is my first ever fanfiction. I use fanfics as a means to perfect my craft which is why I would appreciate reviews. All polite constructive criticism are welcome. **

***Throw the cannon timeline out the window for the purposes of this story. **

***Trigger warnings, if needed, will be given at the beginning of each chapter. **

***Harry Potter does not belong to me. I am merely borrowing characters. **

***Updates will be posted every five to seven days. This fic will be more than twenty chapters. **

***I do not have a beta. So i apologize for any errors. I will try my best to keep them to a minimum. **

***I thank you for giving my story a chance and following me on this journey. **

**Lots of Love **

**Nasiha **

* * *

_It took four years, but it matters not. One cannot rush perfection, nor can one rush the road to power. I am myself again. Soon the world will bow down to the glory of Lord Voldemort. The ministry has fallen to my feet, one strike of victory for the empire. Hogwarts is no more. I can almost touch the sweet face of victory. Now only a pesky boy stands in the way of my domination. I must tread carefully. Potter and the old fool Dumbledore have foiled my plans one too many times. I want nothing more than to choke his scrawny neck with that overgrown beard. But no. We must be patient. My mistake with dealing with the pain has proved detrimental to the cause. For now, I wait. The name of Slytherin and his law would be the word of submission. I will carry out my noble ancestor's glorious work. All in due time. Now, as I write this my people are gathering the means for me to attain a whole new power. I will be invincible. The void will be filled once again. Then the order shall perish in their confusion at how the mighty Lord Voldemort still stand_s.

Hermione was passed out in a pile of books and parchment when the patonus arrived. The medley of pure magic from the wispy stag and dark energy from the ancient tomes that she was currently resting her head on made her skin prickle. She jumped with a start and jolted awake. Briefly taking note of the patronus as her eyes swept the tent, searching for her friend.

Ginny was fast asleep in a corner, wand in hand. The flickering flame of their lamp casted dancing shadows across her face. Hermione studied her sadly. There was a time, not too long ago, that Ginny Weasleys pretty face could light up a room, drawing others in with a vibrant smile and fiery gaze. Now there was light no more. Just grief, exhaustion and lifelessness. How could someone so young be so old?

Hermione fared no better. Ever since Hogwarts was raided and destroyed, she worked herself to the bone, researching, fighting and strategizing. Anything to keep her thoughts away from the people they had lost. There was no point in rumination of the past. What matters now is the future. A future of peace with the ones she loved, never again having to separate and hide for months upon months fretting if your friends and family have been murdered by a bigoted psychopath. No more running. No more war.

Hermione turned her face from her friends sleeping form, her attention now on the glowing stag.

"The cave Hogsmeade." it simply said.

Any unnecessary specifics could mean life or death. Hermione sighed as she rose from her chair, rubbing away the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she approached the sleeping Weasley.

"Ginny." she nudged; her soft whisper almost lost within the howling wind outside.

The redhead stirred. Blinking slowly at Hermione who was bent at her level

"Is everything alright. Did they find us!" she bolted upright so fast Hermione nearly fell over.

"No no," Hermione soothed "It's okay. We're going to see Harry."

Hermione was smiling in hopes that her friend cheers up, even just a little, at finally getting to meet her love after eons but it never reached her warm oak eyes.

"Oh," she smiled and held up an orange maple leaf that fluttered in at some point "We'll be ready for lift off in five."

She stood up and walked towards the table, taking note of the books and notes strewn about.

"I'm so sorry M'ione," she said guiltily "I fell asleep and left you with all the work."

"Its fine Ginny. You were completely knackered after the last time we hit the books."

She stuck her tongue out playfully "You were always the staunchest bookworm magical England has ever known."

Hermione winked and discreetly shot a mild tickling charm at Ginny, lifting it only when the fiery girl had tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks.

They stood there for a few moments drinking in the pure joy of just being with a friend. Each girl painfully holding this moment close to their heart. Unsure of when and if they'd ever share such moments again.

"Whew," said Ginny, grabbing her wand and trying her best to keep her tone light, "duty calls."

With that she turned her attention to the leaf found on the ground earlier and with a wave of her wand began working on an illegal portkey.

Death eaters are now a commonplace at the ministry. Even Shacklebolt, Moody and Tonks, the Orders inside men had to abandon ship to go into hiding. Nothing is safe anymore. The Order is scattered about in small groups, communicating only via patronuses. Never daring to leave their temporary sanctuary except to find a new one when Deatheaters are on their trail. The shadows are now home to the light.

Hermione waved her wand to summon her beaded bag, gathering her books and other essentials. With a last glance at her home for the last three days she exited the tent, a map clutched in her fist with a fat circle around a forest in Albania.

* * *

Crouched in an ally at Hogsmeade, Hermione pulled her cloak tighter to her chest in anticipation. She glanced at her watch that read eleven pm. It was a gift given to her by her parents when she left for Hogwarts the first time. She never took it off. It was the only memento of her parents she had left. Not even their remains were left behind after Deatheaters raided and burned her home to the ground.

She had an inkling of suspicion that that night never went according to plan. Bellatrix's mangled body that turned up soon after made her wonder. Hermione reasoned that her parents weren't meant to die. Their purpose was just to serve as a leverage against her and the Order. She was after all infamous among Voldemort's ranks. Harry Potters mudblood friend. Unfortunately for her and Bellatrix, pureblood bigotry can blind even the most determined of people. A part of her was glad that her parents perished. Who knows what horrors they would have faced under Voldemort's captivity. The first time the thought hit nearly destroy her, but she persevered. When in war indulgence in such emotional crutches is unacceptable. From then on, she made peace at who she has become and what she had to do.

Suffice to say from that day forward, the odds against them lowered significantly.

Hermione fought the sleep that tried to overcome her and wondered how Ginny was faring. No specific time was given to them for obvious reasons. They'd just have to arrive and wait.

Her eyes never left the void like entrance of the cave. She never dared to blink.

Finally, in the distance a tiny glimmer caught her attention. It lasted for a split second. Completely unrecognizable unless someone was paying very careful attention.

Securing her cloak and double checking her disillusioning and silencing charms, she wove her way towards her awaiting comrades like a phantom.

Hermione arrived at the mouth of the cave to the sight of Ginny tightly embracing Harry. She bought their reunion a few more moments as her eyes swept their surroundings for any unnoticed threats.

"No need to fret M'ione," Harry said, his arms still wrapped around his beau's waist "Ron has us covered for now."

Hermione turned to them and nodded. Biting her lip, she took a step towards her best friend but decided to let them be. There would be time to rejoice in each other's company some other day. Right now, there was intel that she desperately needed.

Nine years of friendship can cause two people to forge a way of communicating with the use of the most subtle of gestures.

Harry, taking note of Hermione's cocked head in his direction cleared his throat and let go of his girlfriend .

"Ginny, Ron has been missing you like a mad man," he smiled lovingly "he'd be furious if you left without saying hello."

Ginny nodded and kissed him goodbye "Stay safe okay."

With one last kiss she pulled the hood over her face and crept outside.

They stood in silence until they were sure she was out of earshot

"Did you hear from Dumbledore?" questioned Hermione in a businesslike tone.

Harry nodded solemnly "Do you want the good news or bad news first?"

She sucked in a breath of icy air, dread pooling in her chest

"Bad news it is. Maybe the good news would soften the blow a little eh."

His tone was lighthearted, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Hermione was now on edge "Harry-"

"It's in me." he blurted out

"What!"

"A piece of his soul."

For the first time in her life Hermione Granger was utterly speechless

"No! It can't be. That's impossible" she spluttered after a few seconds; disbelief written across her face.

"How do you think I survived the killing curse?" he ran his fingers through his perpetually messy hair "My mothers sacrifice threw him off somehow."

"Harry..." she trailed off.

Tears pooled in her eyes, but her mouth was set in grim determination

"There must be a way," the hard look on her face threw him off guard "I'll find it myself."

"You need to focus on what you're doing right now." he squeezed her shoulders "Ron and I are working on it."

She opened her mouth to argue but Harry could be just as stubborn as she was.

"What's the good news?" she looked at him.

"You were right as usual," he flicked her nose, this time his smile reached his eyes "The founders items checked out. Moody and Tonks found and destroyed the cup. Dumbledore is working on the locket as we speak. As for the diadem-"

"Its in Albania." She interrupted "it's the only logical choice. Ginny and I searched high and low, except for its original hiding place of course."

"Makes sense," said Harry "why find a new hiding place if where it was did the job already."

Silence filled the air as they stood there, processing the information they shared.

"Hermione," Harry said, not meeting her eyes "if...," he took a deep breath

"If there's no other way…. I want you to do it."

Hermione's gaze snapped to him so fiercely Harry thought that he might burn right there and then.

"We won't let that happen," the fire in her gaze intensified "as soon as we're back from Albania we'll group up and find a way."

Harry started "But Ginny."

"Ginny won't find out." She insisted

"Okay." Harry agreed

"Here," he rummaged around in his backpack "you'll need this more then we do right now."

Harry handed her a silver sword with the Gryffindor emblem studded with rubies.

"That thing is a freaking black hole." he snickered as she stored it in her trusted beaded bag.

Hermione bristled "Shut up."

Her annoyance was only met by more snickering

"Stay safe Hermione." his voice took a serious note

"Until we meet again Harry." she replied and pulled her hood over her face.

Hermione walked out of the cave without looking back.


	2. Chapter 2

The world wind of shapes and colors that is customary with an international portkey would make any seasoned traveler sick to their stomach. Even Hermione, a soldier, isn't privy to the nausea.

She lay flat on the ground staring at the clear Albanian night sky, running a mantra in her head to battle the queasiness.

In through the mouth, hold and release.

Wincing at the feel of cold wet clothes sticking to her, Hermione crawled towards Ginny.

"Here," she said, offering her companion a vial that she dug up from her pocket "pepper up potion. Thought you might need it."

The red head muttered a thanks and popped the cork with much difficulty, thanks to the snow numbing her fingers.

While Ginny was gathering herself, Hermione scanned her surroundings. She reasoned that they couldn't have landed that far off their marked destination.

Moonlight exaggerated the pallor of snow that dusted the ground, trees blurred into the skyline and sounds of the wild rung in her ears. Its definitely a forest Hermione thought sardonically.

"Ready?" she asked, not turning around.

Ginny wobbled over to where her companion stood "As I'll ever be."

In an impressive show of nonverbal magic, Hermione had them both dry and warmed up and they silently walked towards the denser region of the forest. The more paranoid part of Hermione nearly cast them in a disillusioning spell out of habit. She stopped at the last minute and nearly kicked herself for her stupidity. They were wondering about in the dark. A disillusion charm would cause them to lose each other faster than they can say Merlin.

"Say Hermione," Ginny's voice snapped her out of a self-berating monologue "how on earth did you figure out which spot the diadem was hidden in? I've seen the maps; the forest makes up a gigantic chunk of the region."

If it weren't so dark, Ginny would have seen Hermione's eyes light up like a Christmas tree

"Well it's not entirely the exact spot but its close enough. Its basic arithmancy. All I did was consider the known variables of what would make the best hiding spot for the diadem. Things like surrounding cities or villages, magical potency of the plants and wildlife, the difficulty reaching certain areas, translated each one to a runic counterpart and assigned it a numerical value,"

Hermione paused to quickly mark their progress

"From thereon it was simple as working out the probability."

Ginny listened with rapt attention, a thoughtful look on her face "That's bloody brilliant M'ione."

"Thank you, Gin." Hermione's self-satisfied expression was lost in the darkness.

The youngest Weasley mulled over what the older girl told her.

"I wonder…" she thought to herself.

Pulling out her wand she muttered to the darkness a summoning charm. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment as no diadem came flying towards her.

The rest of the evening was passed in silence.

* * *

Hermione checked her wristwatch. Three thirty a.m.

They were walking about for hours. Any hope of finding the diadem before sunrise was looking painfully bleak.

Hermione pointed her wand to a nearby tree "Incendio."

A small flame shot out, scorching the bark and causing a small wisp of smoke to float by "We'll camp here for a while. Its much less dense but for now we must utilize our time to the max."

"Sounds good to me." Ginny panted, hands on knees.

They trudged along, battling fatigue and beyond freezing temperatures. Hermione wanted nothing more than to cradle a book near a blazing fire. Just like she used to do at Hogwarts. The Gryffindor common room was by far the warmest place in the castle. Ginny would've been lounging on the ground with a magazine, Harry would huff in frustration as Ron once again beat him in a game of chess and the twins would've been in some corner testing out new inventions on the first years. It was a peaceful time. She couldn't remember when last she was that content.

Though there were a war raging outside the castle walls, there was a sense of safety. An unwavering sense of hope. They were children in refuge from a magical daydream that turned into a paralyzing nightmare.

No one really knew for sure how Voldemort's crusaders managed to storm pass Hogwarts impenetrable wards. It was dinnertime. Hermione could still remember the taste of the bread pudding shed taken a second helping of when the portraits went ballistic. They were caught unawares, cornered like game being hunted. They had no choice. Either fight or die.

They did fight that autumn evening, but they all somehow did die.

Hogwarts will never be the same again. Even if the light did win. Even if somehow, they rebuilt the ancient castle to its former glory. That much blood can't be washed away.

Hermione looked up at the inky sky. The glittering stars were like tears shed by a loveless void. She could easily spot Sirius beneath the branches. A tiny smile graced her face when she tilted her head and spotted Regulus in the distance.

"It's kinda comforting isn't it?" Ginny placed her head on Hermione's shoulder "No matter what happened or where they'd end up, they're always together."

Though Hermione would like to give in to Ginny's romantic assertion, a small part of her likened the two stars, the two Black brothers, as being so close but so far away. It was almost absurdly fitting. They loved each other so much but even love couldn't stop them from choosing different sides. Not even Regulus's selfless sacrifice in his brother's name brought them together. Both died alone. One with regret, the other with the notion that his brother choose everything else over him.

"We won't let their sacrifices be in vain." she told Ginny, choosing to keep her more cynical thoughts to herself.

"Perhaps we should head back to set up camp." Ginny said after a pause

Hermione turned her face to agree but stilled.

"Ginny." she scanned her surroundings intently. Her ears prickled at the dead silence.

"Its quite."

Her companion looked at her with wide eyes "A bit too quiet."

The duo made their way into the thicket of trees with urgency. A gasp left their mouths as a sickly feeling of icicles pricking their skin hit them out of nowhere.

"What was that?"

"I think we've crossed a magical barrier" breathed Hermione, fumbling for her wand.

She took a step back, wand pointed to the darkness "Apokálypsi Thermokrasías."

While nothing visible left the tip of her wand, their surroundings took a minty blue tinge. The illusory tint flickered, the charm weaving its way through the atmosphere, grasping any magical residue in order to get a reading.

Slowly jet-black whispers of smoke creeped out of every surface. It pirouetted and mingled with each other, almost as if it had a life of its own.

The girls looked at each other, horror etched across their faces.

The sheer intensity of energy those whisps radiated threatened to crush their chests and though no words were spoken, each girl knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dark magic.

"I think the bulk of it is coming from that way." Ginny remarked, pointing further to the left.

Hermione carefully treaded in that direction. She breathed in deeply, the pressure violently building the closer she got. By the time she reached her destination Hermione's vision was blurred and her heart rate erratic.

I must work quickly, or I might pass out, she thought.

Her eyes scanned the beech tree. It was nothing special in any shape or form except for the dark tendrils swirling around its base. To Hermione it gave of an impression of being almost protective.

With a wave of her wand she dropped the spell and the forest once again turned to darkness.

"Revelio." she muttered at the tree, biting back a curse as the most complicated wards she'd ever seen glowed before her.

With another deep breath, Hermione shrugged off her heavy cloak and began working on the wards, barely feeling the cold nip at her bare arms.

By now, her breath was laboured as she tried to blink away the dizziness, yet Hermione kept at her carful pace. In what felt like eons, she felt the aura of the wards fall away. Without wasting anymore time, or precious air, she stuck her hand in the hallow of the tree. Grasping the cool platinum object from within, she made a break for it, grabbing Ginny roughly on her way out.

The Gryffindor's landed in a heap, Hermione spluttering and gasping for air. Despite almost having her lung ruptured by broken ribs, she was euphoric.

"Nice one M'ione." Ginny grinned, dusting her cloak and helping her companion up.

Hermione, still breathless merely shot Ginny a grin of her own. She held the diadem up to the sky in admiration. It was impossible to tell that a fragmented piece of a dark lord's soul was safely stored within. The blue stone at the centre seemed to absorb the light of the moon. It was hypnotising.

Turning the artefact over, she marvelled at the way the engraving glowed, spelling out Ravenclaws motto as she tilted it to the side.

Immensum id est thesaurus hominis. Wit beyond measure is mans greatest treasure.

"Ooh," squealed Ginny "Let me have a look."

The younger girl grabbed the object out of Hermione's grasp. An uncharacteristic burst of anger flared through her at Ginny's crass behavior.

How dare she do that after all I went through to find it.

"Hand it over Ginny that's not a toy." she hissed in fury.

"What is that supposed to mean?" scowled Ginny, her eyes showcasing just as much anger "That I'm some sort of stupid inept child."

Hermione snorted and crudely grabbed on to the piece jutting from her companions' hand.

"You said it not me."

"Oh, sod off Granger. You prance about like some sort of irritating know it all when in actuality you're nothing but a low life mud blood."

Ginny let go of the diadem, backing away in horror at what she had just said.

"M'ione," she whimpered, placing her hand over her mouth "I am so sorry…I"

Hermione's face was impassive as she dropped the horcrux to the ground. It hit the snow with a fizz. The kind when you squeeze thick soapy foam in your fist.

"Its okay Gin," she looked at the weeping girl with tearful eyes of her own "It wasn't you."

The blue gem winked mockingly at her and with a curl of her lip she unsheathed Gryffindor's sword from her bag like an avenging angel, bringing the blade down on the object with a grunt.

Platinum hit platinum with a clang.

Bright rays of light seeped trough the forming cracks on the shiny surface. It seemed to almost vibrate with pure unhinged energy. The light became blinding, melting the snow as the object began shaking violently. Hermione barely had time to throw up a shield as the horcrux exploded to smithereens with the force of a small nuclear reactor.

She was flying through the air with the speed of a freight train. The sheer force knocked the air from her lungs, and it was only pure instinct that caused her to cast a wandless cushioning charm before a tree broke her flight.

Hermione, for once this evening, was thankful for the soft snow that littered the ground. She landed with a soft thud, heaving and spitting blood. Crimson staining the snow like a bad omen.

Fumbling to her feet, she staggered towards Ginny who was limp under a pile of leaves that was blown away thanks to the blast.

She swept the leaves away manically, wiping away blood from a head wound with her bare hands

"Enervate" she whispered, sighing in relief when her companions' eyes flickered

"Ginny! Ginny are you okay?"

"My leg," Ginny whimpered "I think it's completely shattered."

Hermione had no chance to check for any other wounds.

In the distance, multiple apparition cracks made her heart stop

"How did they find us?" Ginny breathed franticly, her face white as a sheet.

"I-I don't know," Hermione stuttered weakly "the energy emissions from the blast must have alerted them."

She tugged on a stray curl, her mind in a whirr.

With utmost urgency, she began to cover Ginny under a pile of snow and leaves

"Disillusion yourself and stay here. Work on a portkey, if things escalate, apparate yourself out of here."

Without waiting for a reply, Hermione dashed into the forest. Right towards the fast approaching enemy

* * *

**To those who favorited and followed, I see you. **

**xoxo**


	3. Chapter 3

**CW: Violence **

_I was fifteen years old when the matron saw it fit to inform me of my mothers' tragic demise. How she stumbled up the staircase of Wools orphanage on Christmas eve, so heavily with child she could barely walk. The way her pale body bore testament to a hard life and how she murmured that I was to be named after my father, before her eyes glazed over with lifelessness. _

_My elation at this news outweighed the bubbling disgust at my mothers' pathetic circumstance. She was obviously filth. No powerful family would allow their women to wander about the way she did. But it mattered not. I had my father and I had no doubt that he was a noble pureblooded man. After all I am his son, the most powerful wizard to have walked the halls of this castle since the founders. It had to be. _

Its amazing when in dire, sometimes even life-threatening situations, what strange thoughts spring out of nowhere. In Hermione's case, it was how peri winkle blue was such a damn awful color.

There crouched behind a tree, listening intently for any potential murderers, she wondered what on earth she was thinking, wearing that gown to the Yule ball all those years ago.

A twig snapping shattered her internal reminiscing. Sweat trickled down her temple as intent eyes swept the area like a predator poised for attack.

"Stupefy." she uttered, smirking in triumph when her pursuer slumped to the ground.

She rolled her eyes and levitated the death eater out of sight. Amateur.

The forest was deathly silent as Hermione sneaked back to her hiding spot.

What now? Surely, I can't hide forever.

She wracked her brains for something, anything to get herself back to Ginny and out of danger but came up short. For once in her life, Hermione Granger was out of solutions. She felt trapped in her own skin, her mind spinning out of control with anxiety. The sound of her heart beating rung in her ears and she wished for nothing more than to escape within her mind. Like how she used to when Harry and Ron argued about something petty while she revised.

She could picture it playing out in her head.

"Knight to E four." Harry would exclaim triumphantly, leaning back like a king on his throne.

Ron would merely shoot his friend a goofy smile and smugly summon his queen.

"Queen to G five."

She'd sigh in exasperation as Harry accuses Ron of pulling a fast one, then proceed to tune them out as the gangly ginger starts ranting about the Blackburne Shilling Trap or something.

Hermione's eyes widened. If the situation weren't so critical, she would've charmed a lightbulb over her head.

The Blackburne Shilling Trap! Black violates all the basic opening principles in order catch White off guard. Draw out the enemy with an apparent mistake then attack.

Slowly a plan began forming in her mind. It was amazing when in dire circumstances what strange thoughts spring out of nowhere.

She waved her wand over the length of her body, "Cogitatio."

A translucent blob of energy began to emerge from her aura, strongly resembling an amoeba floating in midair. Slowly it began to take form and Hermione stared into her very own eyes.

As the reflection made a mad dash into the thicket of trees, she was briefly taken aback at how haggard she looked. It was as she was staring at an alternate self. Someone from a universe doomed to a life of suffering. The sight evoked a newfound feeling of sad desperation. This was her reality, but she would be damned if this was the rest of her life.

Hermione gripped her wand with determination, "Lux abscondita."

The fluorescent white light that shot out was instantly absorbed by the ground. Its electric current cackled as it moved underneath, waiting for anything to latch on to.

Without missing a beat, Hermione fled in the direction of her hidden friend. Her pace quickening as the screams of her pursuers echoed through the forest.

She looked up at the sky to see pink and orange rays peak from behind the clouds. A mistake that would cost her dearly.

Hermione skidded to a halt as two figures emerged from the trees. She tried to dart away before they proceeded any further, but she'd already been spotted. Her heart jumped to her throat when she realized they weren't coming forward at all.

They were waiting for her.

With a vicious hiss she broke into a sprint, firing her most powerful stunning spell, almost losing her footing as the figure on the right erected a shield just as potent.

Hermione was forced to a stop by complete astonishment.

Her hands began to tremble, and a shiver ran down her spine.

"What's the matter Miss Granger," the figure inclined his head toward her in greeting "has all that zeal evaporated from your tiny body?"

Hermione was too frozen with fear at the sight before her to be furious at his mocking tone.

"It would seem our darling little poppet is at a loss for words." he turned his head to address the unconscious figure he was holding up.

Malfoy!

It took Hermione all her will power not to fall on her knees in defeat.

Who else could it be? Absolutely no one can pull off being so refined while being that unhinged.

Lucius Malfoy had her in his sight and Ginny Weasley in his grasp.

She was still reeling with shock when an especially dark slicing hex whirred trough the air. Hermione didn't even see it let alone have time to get out of the way.

She threw her arms upwards at the last moment, her mouth formed into the shape of an O as the hex slashed her like a hot knife trough butter.

Malfoy appraised his handiwork, addressing the still unconscious Weasley "Isn't that gorgeous?"

Blood spilled in rivulets from Hermione's arms. Muscle and bone peeked through her wounds, but she dared not heal it. Magical healing would only aggravate injuries caused by dark magic.

She staggered to her feet, her screams carried by the morning breeze, against a backdrop of crows screeching to the heavens. Her breath came out in pants, condensating in the air. Four more masked men surrounded her. She was out matched five to one and was terrified to the core of her being. Trembling, she fought the spell of dizziness that imbued her, planting her feet firmly to the ground.

Swallowing her fear, she looked her adversary dead in the eye, conjured a set of bandages over her wounds and inclining her head in a greeting of her own, fell into a dueling stance.

"I liked you better when your filthy blood was spilling on to the floor." Malfoy snarled and flung Ginny to his feet.

With that, Hermione was bombarded by curses and hexes from all sides.

She leaned on one knee and brought her wand down in a zig zag motion "Clypeus furorem."

A luminous dome of protection covered her. The shield, specifically designed to thwart dark magic, turned murkier with each spell it absorbed.

Hermione grit her teeth with the effort it took to hold them off. She growled with frustration when an electric purple curse shattered her defense on the left perimeter. The shield took on a pitch-black hue and no matter how much magic she fed into it; the cracks just kept on coming.

Hermione glanced around in earnest searching for any blind spots. Upon finding none she decided there was no choice but to risk it.

Dropping her shield, she rolled out of the firing line, laying flat on her back. Without sparing no moment she aimed at the sky.

"Ghadab Alaliha."

Grey smoke veiled itself over the fusion of a bleeding dawn. The sky seemed to shake itself in a frenzy as the temperature rose exponentially, melting snow around them. A shrill screech was the only warning they got before molten rock the size of cauldrons rained upon them.

The curse had dark elements to it but right now Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. These were special circumstances.

Shouts of retreating men could be heard over the ruckus. One unlucky death eater had a leg crushed and she took this as her que to get the hell out of there.

Hermione was on her feet in seconds and sprinting toward Ginny who was sprawled crudely at the foot of a tree.

She could almost taste the sweet sense of relief when an excruciating sensation of being doused in acid blanketed her. Bumps began to form on her skin, tearing open at even the slightest intake of breath. Hermione was on the ground howling in blinding agony. She shot out a weak stunning spell with no apparent target out of desperation, sobbing like a baby.

The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a pair of extravagant dragon hide boots.

Hermione was brought to by a torrent of freezing water. She gasped at the initial shock of being awakened in such a manner. Her surprise was quickly turned into a dizzying spell of utter pain as the dry bubble-like bumps on her skin opened up once more. She wailed and sobbed pitifully, her tears aggravating her facial wounds.

"The mud blood is awake."

Hermione recognized her captor trough blurry eyes by the striking resemblance to his son, her classmate.

Nott senior was a tall, slender man who carried himself like any other pureblooded male. Unlike Malfoy, he had a quite unsettling presence. You could feel his eyes on you long after he left the room.

"What do we do about the other one?"

"Throw her into a cell," Lucius sniffed "she might be a traitor, but she still is of noble blood. Besides the mud blood has the information we need."

Nott senior turned to one of the lower ranking officers and smirked "Treat her well. She would breed wonderful pureblood offspring."

Hermione could barely register what was going on through the agony. All she heard was a muffle of something being dragged and a door slamming shut. Not long after, she was hoisted and magically bound to a plush chair.

"Tell me mud blood," Lucius circled her like a vulture "what on earth was so important that you found yourself wandering about so far from home?"

His words were deliberate and intended for psychological warfare. Hermione had no home and he knew that very well.

Hermione tried to compose herself. She knew, in theory, how to handle an interrogation. Give them what they want. Be vague and carefully choose your words. That all sounded good on paper but right now, as anguish plowed through her, it all sounded much easier said than done.

"Hmm, she doesn't speak." his countenance was blasé, but his eyes glittered with madness.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Hermione felt like every pore in her body were being penetrated by tiny needles.

She let out a shriek that would make one's blood chill. By reflex, her body squirmed and flailed. She eventually fell over with the chair, her magical bonds limiting any movements.

Malfoy lifted his spell, giving Hermione a chance to breathe.

"How did you possess the sword of Gryffindor."

He didn't wait for her to answer "Crucio."

She opened her mouth to scream but no sound left her lips. Her face took on purple hue as she asphyxiated, her body spasming uncontrollably.

Is this it? Is this how it really ends?

Blood pored freely from her mouth and black spots dotted her vision. She has reached her end.

"Dear Hermione," Malfoy tutted "Why do you resist? You have nothing left. Tell me all that I need to know, and I give you my word, your death would be swift."

Out of nowhere the doors burst open like thunder.

Severus Snape marched in, his robes flowing behind him. Malfoy was not pleased with this intrusion at all.

The feeling of exploding from within dissipated and she laid there in limbo. Colors and sounds seemed to merge in a haze as she vaguely heard them speak. She latched onto the professor's deep baritone voice, allowing herself to sink within the very depths of her mind. She was in class, stirring her potion in a deep trance. Nothing else existed.

"Don't you worry mud blood. The moment our Lord is done with you, we will pick up right where we left off."

She barely felt Malfoys fist meet her face before the sweet relief of nothingness enveloped her.


	4. Chapter 4

_As a child, I had the penchant of staring into the mirror for hours at a time. Not for the sake of vanity but of wonder. I used to keep a notebook of all the various things about myself and from who I had inherited it from. Deep down, in spite of the dull life of an orphan, it was always known, had my family been alive I would have been on a throne. The world at my feet. _

_The alarming revelations of my mother shook me to the core, but I conceded there must be a viable explanation. _

_So, I searched high and low. Every magical archive that I could get my hands on, but any mention of Tom Riddle eluded me. The house of Salazar Slytherin did not choose me for nothing. I was steadfast in my determination. There was still one thing I have not investigated yet. _

_Marvolo. The middle name I haven't paid attention to. If it was of importance, then it should have been given to me as my first. But that mattered not. It was a lead I clung so desperately onto. _

_Imagine my astonishment when after months of tirelessly searching to have finally found something. _

_Marvolo Gaunt, father of Merope and Morphin Gaunt. The last surviving descendants of Salazar Slytherin. _

_I couldn't breathe. Somehow, I always knew that I was from the blood of the greats. _

_My father, Morphin, will be pleased to know his heir was alive and well. The pride he will feel when I tell him that his son is among the most brilliant minds to have walked this earth. _

Ever since Hermione was a child, she expressed an insatiable desire for learning. While most children stomped their foot and demanded ice cream, she politely asked for more reading material. So, it was no surprise to anyone when she declared proudly that she wanted to be a librarian. No one took her seriously, but she had her heart set on it.

For somebody who simply abhorred divination, she intuitively knew from a very young age that if somehow anything happened to her, she would always find a sanctuary in books.

It did something to you, those words, no those souls, forever bound between their covers. The crackle of pages turning. The scent of ink and parchment. She could sense it all.

Hermione ran her finger down a page, feeling the slight roughness of mass-produced paper. A tree branch knocked against the window and she pulled her knees closer to her chest as a draft of cold air sneaked in.

But she didn't care. She was home. Safe.

The shelves reached the ceiling, filled to the brim with all her favorites titles.

Except for one.

It laid on the floor, at the foot of a shelf, as if it had fallen.

Hermione awakened from the rock-hard reading chair she enfolded herself in and went to pick it up.

It looked like any other book sans the customary title.

She flipped it open to a random page and brought it up to her nose. A weird quirk that most bibliophile's share.

For some odd reason, it smelled of cinders. Just the way the living room does when you are roused from slumber at three in the morning because of sofa cramps.

Hermione closed the leather-bound book, setting it back on the shelf. She walked to the reading chair pausing every few seconds to run her hands vigorously over herself to stop the tingling.

Ever so slightly the sensation morphed into a cruel burn.

The next thing she knew, everything around her was on fire. Flames crawled up her legs and she whimpered in pain as the heat melted the fibers of her jeans into her skin.

She searched wildly for an exit, but she was trapped within the flame. Her surroundings blurred into one as her world spun wildly.

Hermione woke with a gasp. Though the unforgiving concrete ground was no help with the aftereffects of a torture curse, it was mercifully cold. In that moment she felt as if she'd been immersed in scalding hot water.

A minute passed, or maybe a few hours, she couldn't tell. All she was aware of was that the pain suddenly dissipated out of nowhere. Slowly, she flexed her fingers and toes, sighing in relief when her appendages abided to her will.

Hermione was thoroughly confused in her apparent healthy state, but she didn't linger on the possible reasons. The stronger she was, the sooner she could make a break for her freedom.

She pulled herself in a sitting position. Her palms splayed out on the concrete as she scrutinized the room. It was completely bare save for the muck and dried blood on the wall. The cell itself had no bars or windows, just a tiny hatch to slip food in. Hermione has never seen anything like it.

The walls must be keyed to something, she twisted her mouth deep in thought, much like the wards to old ancestral homes.

There was absolutely no way she could escape without a wand and she knew it. She nearly gave up all hope there and then, when a slight breeze made her still in trepidation.

Her mind instantly kicked into overdrive. There was no possible way that a breeze could trickle in a cell such as this. Someone was there with her and where a wizard goes, his wand goes with him.

Scavenging every last iota of energy within her, Hermione pictured in her minds eye a sphere of magic cradled in the palm of her hand. It grew brighter as it dragged the magic right from her center. Hermione likened it to a thread being pulled from a sweater or scarf.

When the spell reached its peak, she was instantly on her feet.

She flung the enchantment with a grunt, "Revelio."

There comes a time, actually many a time, in a person's life that most people would call "The point of no return". A crossroads in the wake of a mundane event in your life that would set the dominoes tumbling with no way to stop it.

Draco Malfoy, ripe with old age, would often sit back and wonder to himself just how would his life turned out if he opted for a less flowy robe that day. The young man in question didn't exactly comprehend what was happening until it was too late. She wasn't supposed to wake up nor was she supposed to see him. At that moment he truly feared his fate if the bushy head Gryffindor pulled a fast one. There was absolutely no way he could slither his way out of this dare his father question him.

Hermione, at first never recognised the person who stood before her like a deer caught in headlights. The last she saw of Draco Malfoy was roughly four years ago right before that heinous raid of their school. He has changed a lot since then. That arrogant air was still there, but something was amiss.

As she scrutinised him, she noticed that he was skinnier than a twig. His aristocratic cheekbones protruded from his face much like one of her overstuffed bookbags. The pallor of his skin was grey instead of pale and his frame trembled as if he could collapse at any moment.

He gave of a vibe that many junkies did in her muggle hometown.

"You look like shit." She remarked nastily, satisfaction flooding her when his sunken eyes widened in anger.

"Fuck you Granger," he hissed just as nastily, covertly slipping something in his pocket "you're not exactly the most prettiest picture either."

It was true. Hermione was filthy and matted with blood. Her face was terribly scarred, but she was grown now, hardened by war and most recently unbridled suffering. Nothing he could say would hurt her now.

"I was tortured by your sicko father," she sniffed, inconspicuously inching closer to him "what's your excuse? Generations of inbreeding?"

He didn't fire off as he would typically do much to her surprise. Instead he vigorously massaged his temples.

Hermione, whilst observing him made a realisation that brought with full force the reality of her situation. Hope bloomed in her breast as she deduced that if Malfoy was in here, she was closer to home than she thought.

With that in mind, she centred herself and prepared for a physical confrontation.

Malfoy on the other hand seemed to have found himself. In a flash he whipped out his wand and pointed it at her face.

"Oblivi-"

Hermione leaped into action, ramming into his chest with her shoulder. He went down like a sack of feathers, sprawled on the ground heaving. Remembering his father's humiliating torture and treatment in general, Hermione lifted him by the collar of his designer robes and rammed her fist in his face with a gratifying crack.

She wondered briefly how many other times Draco Malfoy bared the brunt of his father's actions but tossed the thought aside along with his unconscious body. She couldn't care less about him. Her only concern was finding Ginny and getting out of Malfoy Manor.

That is if she's alive, Hermione remarked to herself.

Grabbing Draco's fallen wand, she blasted the wall with such ferocity, the entire dungeon seemed to rattle.

Chaos ensued. Shouts from guards reverberated throughout. Two men hurled curses at her back. Hermione could feel the warmth of magic catching up to her. Without turning around, she tossed their spells back at them, Malfoys wand obeying with little resistance.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she threw herself in a corner, bending down with her palms held to her ears as a violent explosion lit up the hallway.

"Vélos tou íliou," she drew an invisible line connecting the tip of the corner wall to the opposite end.

A thin film of golden light veiled the bend to the corridor she was in, building up intensity until it was a dense wall of blinding rays. It began to ripple sluggishly, as a hand emerged.

They watched in amazement as a stark-naked man stepped out of the light. He was beautiful, cut in all the right places like a statue crafted with the utmost skill. His golden eyes were stoic as he summoned a bow and arrow from thin air, not even flinching when an array of dark curses rocketed towards him.

While the guards were occupied with shielding themselves from flaming arrows, Hermione wasted no time watching the show.

She placed the wand onto the floor "Point me."

Hermione twitched impatiently as the Hawthorne wand spun lazily, attempting to find Ginny's general location.

Finally, it stopped with a tiny jilt. She picked it up and sprinted down the corridor in one swift motion.

Footsteps echoed behind her as higher-ranking officials made their way through the labyrinth that is the dungeons. Prisoners were kicking their hatches and screaming on the top of their lungs amid the chaos.

Hermione tuned it out, her concentration locked onto dodging and avoiding death eaters. Two men jumped her from the front, sending disarming spells her way. She rolled out of the firing line, throwing two stunners in quick succession.

Perspiration dripped from her face and her sides ached with stiches, but she dared not slow down. Another curse trailed after her. This time cold enough to leave a layer of sleet as it inched closer.

She flung herself into a passage to the right, the unknown curse crashing into a gaggle of men making their way from the front, freezing them solid on the spot.

Ignoring the bite from sliding on abrasive concrete, she gritted her teeth and got to her feet, looking straight ahead.

The amount of guards and officers pouring in from all sides began to tremendously overwhelm her. Tears of frustration rolled down her blotchy cheeks as she fired rapid stunners when they got too close for comfort.

"Ginny! Ginny, where are you?" she shouted out in desperation, shielding herself just in time when a man she recognised as Yaxley managed to launch an attack from a blind spot.

Hermione cut through the air in a V formation "Arresto Momentum."

Yaxley's curse wavered, stilling in mid-flight.

"Bombarda Maxima."

Hermione's spell lit up his face as he worked hurriedly to recalibrate his own. His attempt proved futile as the magic effortlessly crashed into the levitating curse and soon after Yaxley himself went flying through the walls.

Without looking back, she weaved her way through the maze of corridors, screaming Ginny's name as she fought off attackers from all sides. Eventually, Hermione found herself facing the foot of a guarded staircase.

Without breaking her speed, she had the stationed men on the floor, writhing in pain.

Hemione's body screamed out for her to stop as she bolted up the stairs, calling out to her friend in spite of her breathlessness.

Finally, her shouts were met by cries of her name.

She quickened her pace, letting Ginny's voice guide her.

"Hermione over here." Ginny had her face pressed against the hatch when the fatigued girl found her.

Hermione breathed heavily as she leaned her back on the cell wall, grateful that the stream of pursuers lost her. At least for now.

"Stand back, I'm gonna have to blast you out of here."

Ginny's eyes were wide with fear as she nodded frantically, scrambling away to the farthest corner of the concrete block.

She turned around, wand held in position, when she was abruptly sent flying. Her head hit the opposite cell with a crack, her ribs mimicking the sickening sound when she landed flat on her face.

A furry hand plucked the stolen wand from next to her and Hermione watched helplessly when her only defence was snapped into pieces.

"M'ione what's going on?" Ginny yelled, unaware of the werewolf creeping up on her companion.

Hermione eyed the beastly man wearily "Stay back Gin. Everything is going to be fine."

Fenir Greyback smirked at her, saliva dripping pass his pointy teeth "No need for false comfort. She deserves to know that nothing will save her now."

Something inside Hermione snapped. She wasn't sure if it was the mind-numbing exhaustion or the various knocks to her head. She threw Greyback a snarl that would rival his own and consequences be damned, spat on his face all while looking him dead in the eye.

If she died that day, no can say that Hermione Granger went down like a coward.

**To all those who clicked favorite, follow or review thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

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_The snake crudely nailed onto the door of the abysmal shack should have been my first warning to return to London. Serpents were sacred to the house of Slytherin after all. I couldn't shake off the feeling of trepidation that settled in the pit of my stomach. What I assumed was a bad omen, now looking back, was a mark of rebirth. _

_My second sign was the filthy man who opened the door. He spat at me in outrage, calling me a filthy muggle. Threatening to murder me dare I ever step foot near his land again. _

_Fury burned through me as I hissed at him in Parseltongue, demanding to know what in Salazar's name he was on about. His surprise at my gift was written across his face. He laughed hysterically, muttering to himself that I speak the language of his forefathers. I refused to believe that this was what the noble house of my ancestor was reduced to, but there it was right in front of my very eyes. _

_"You must be Merope's bastard. You look just like him you know, Tom Riddle. Same pretty face Merope was so taken with. That traitorous bitch got what she deserved." _

_My father, a muggle? The noble blood that ran through my veins was that of my pitiful mother?_

_"Get out you revolting half breed. You're just as filthy as your muggle father. Soiling our pure bloodline. I bet you're just as useless as your mother too, wretched squib she was." _

_It was all a blur. Morphin Gaunt was on the floor writhing as I barraged him with every dark curse I knew. He was dead long before I ceased fire. I knew this but never did I stop. He did not deserve the ring belonging to Slytherin that he marred by wearing. So I simply took it from his corpse. _

_I left silently following the path out of Little Hanglelton and would have returned to Wools orphanage that evening had it not been for the sign proudly displaying the residence of the Riddles. _

_The door to the mansion was unlocked. They sat at the table, a man, a woman and a boy who for a second I thought was me in some alternate universe. Eating dinner in his picture-perfect palace with his picture-perfect family. The man displayed a similar outrage as Morphin at my intrusion though he stopped when he saw his youth painted on my face. _

_"So the bitch kept the baby. What do you want boy? Is it money?" _

_I said nothing, taking everything in. Comparing their lavish life with my own at a piss poor orphanage. Me, the last living descendant of the mighty Salazar Slytherin. _

_"I see you're a freak just like your mother. She tricked me you know. It was a good thing she fled before she died or else I would have killed the whore with you inside of her." _

_I looked at his son, then at him. Within seconds they all breathed their last breaths. _

_That night Tom Mavolo Riddle died along with his filthy unworthy kin, a piece of his soul safely stored away in Slytherin's artifact. A new era had begun. One where the world would bow down to the feet of their new dark lord with fear and adoration. The name of Lord Voldemort will leave the lips of people as they sing his praises. I would purge the world of its filth for I have seen the abomination they would become. If Salazar Slytherin caught a glimpse of me that night, he would have held his head high with pride at the man his progeny had become._

* * *

Hermione was seated in a plush study. She couldn't help but notice how her dirty hands contrasted the expensive china cup and saucer she held. It seemed to enunciate that feeling of being a regular fish out of water. The armchair seemed to envelop her. It was soft and comfy, yet she couldn't allow herself to relax.

Dark tomes lined the walls from ceiling to floor, the serpent detailing that wove itself through the mahogany shelves added to the forbidding aura. Priceless ancient artifacts that Hermione had only read about were used as decorative knick-knacks. It was grim, and surreal, to say the least.

Then there was the man who was seated behind an impressive writing desk directly across her. He gave off an authoritative air while seemingly carrying himself in a refined nonchalant manner. There was something exceedingly jarring about it.

"What is the matter Miss Granger," his voice had an unnatural posh lilt as if it was learned rather than innate "is the tea not to your liking?"

He smiled at her. The rather typical gesture softened his sharp angular features and exaggerated the fine wrinkles framing the corner of his eyes.

Hermione was unable to decide whether to appreciate the sight before her or to run for her life.

"It's fine, thank you," she whispered, more out of awkwardness than confusion at this time.

"I can assure you that it is not poisoned." he chuckled

As to prove his point, he leaned over, plucked the cup from her saucer and took a sip.

"See." his azure eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned back into his chair.

A flush of anger and annoyance crept up her neck.

Is he toying with me?

Hermione almost threw her tea on his face, but a small voice of reason told her that it was probably a terrible idea.

"Where did you learn that spell?" she asked instead.

His mouth curved haughtily "Learn? Why my dear, I had invented it."

"Oh." She replied lamely.

"Is there perhaps any problem? Are you in any pain?" he inquired politely.

"Not at all. Your healing capabilities are astounding."

Hermione surveyed the massive room, habitually looking for potential escape routes. At first, she had thought her savior was some high ranking healer, accidentally stumbling to her rescue, but something about this man fired her internal alarm bells. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. The element of impending danger was prevalent, and her anxiety showed clearly on her face. The more benign and considerate he was, the higher her apprehension rose.

She avoided his gaze and fired her occlumency shields just in case. If she wasn't studying the shifting mural of a serpent weaving itself through the Tree of Life, Hermione would have noticed his eyebrow twitch.

"You need to relax Miss Granger. I assure you that you are undoubtedly out of harm's way."

Though her eyes found its way back to his form, she still avoided his gaze like the plague. Hermione focused on a lock of chestnut hair that set itself on his forehead. The roaring fire made the scattered grey strands stand out whenever he tilted his head to study her. She attempted to count them as she fought to keep her composure.

"You must forgive me, sir," Hermione uttered scornfully "Voldemort's lapdogs aren't exactly known for their kind hospitality."

"Voldermort?" this time his brow was raised "I had no idea people nowadays dare to utter the Dark Lords name."

Hermione watched him warily as he raised himself from his chair "Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing himself."

"How wise. You clearly are a cut above your peers."

He was behind her now, both of his manicured hands rested on her shoulder.

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat. She frantically searched for something else to focus her attention on.

"Tell me Miss Granger, whatever would you have done if I had not interceded between yourself and Fenir?"

"I don't know," she admitted, gripping the saucer so fiercely it shattered in her hand.

Hermione gasped as the porcelain buried itself into her skin. Drops of lukewarm tea hit the lavish Turkish carpet with dull thuds. She bit back a curse and latched on to the sight of her split drink, counting the droplets as it fell.

"Greyback would have killed you."

Hermione could feel his gaze boring into her from behind. Without reaching for his wand, the imposing man silently healed her injuries.

"I honestly couldn't care less at this point." she looked down at her hand. He hadn't bothered to clean up the blood.

"Are you not afraid of Death my dear?"

Her eyes darted around the room, fervently searching for another crutch.

"I've made my peace with it a long time ago." Hermione was starting to lose her cool.

There, near the paperweight, a stack of files. No, the books next to the fireplace.

Hermione could feel her arms beginning to stiffen due to hyperventilation. The man, however, was the epitome of calm and collected.

"I suppose that would happen to a person who befriends the infamous Harry Potter."

Triggers are an exceptionally strange phenomena. That is in the sense of it being a spectrum. It varies from individual to individual.

In Harry Potter's case, depending on the severity of his emotional turmoil at that very moment, it's enclosed spaces or a certain shade of emerald green. Both symbolizing abandonment and loss. He might not be aware of it, but somewhere in the innermost depths of his mind, whenever he is confronted with the Slytherin crest, a deep sense of fear mimicking itself as distrust pummels its way to the surface of his consciousness.

To that baby who wailed in his cradle as his mother was brutally murdered, it was the testament of every major trauma that impacted his life in so many different ways. The petrified teen in a graveyard witnessing the murder of his peer by the same man who took away his loving home, it was the catalyst to his newfound home and family being torn apart. Even looking into his own eyes was an ineffable experience. It was a daily battle between gazing into his mothers' eyes or staring down the curse that killed her.

In the case of Hermione Granger, it was Harry Potter. The boy who leaped in front of death at just eleven years old one Halloween night to save her life. She didn't know him all that well save for what she had read in her history books. That day, however, their friendship was forever cemented. They hardly made a move without each other since then. Hermione was his guide and Harry will forever be her strength. She was his first glimpse of family and he was the only family she had left. At just eleven years old, Hermione Granger had decided that come what may she would defend her best friend, her brother, till her very last breath.

Harry's name wasn't even halfway out of the man's mouth when raw emotion blurred all coherent thought.

She aggressively shrugged his hands off her shoulder, waking up so fast her chair hit the floor with a crash.

"Who are you and why am I here?" she demanded, whipping around to face her passive aggravator.

He was full-on smiling now.

"You are here Hermione because I desperately wanted to know why would one of Dumbledore's champions resort to such devious methods of winning?"

Hermione was still taken aback by his use of her first name when he conjured her beaded bag out of thin air and toppled its contents at his feet.

"My oh my. Why I have not seen such a selection since I was about your age mastering the dark arts."

Hermione glanced at the glimmering sword wondering if she would manage to snatch it with just enough time to plunge it into his chest.

"I dare say you remind me of myself. It is too bad your breeding doesn't match up to your outstanding potential."

The impressive double doors burst open causing the man to take his piercing eyes off her for a split second.

Without thinking, Hermione lunged for the sword. In an instant, she was on the ground and back on her feet clutching the weapon. Much to her horror, in the blink of an eye the artifact vanished from her hands

It materialized into the right hand of the man and before she knew it, he had her in a vice-like grip with the pointed end digging into her back.

"Ah Severus," his voice was tranquil "you have impeccable timing. I am sure our guest is aching to know the status of her beloved resistance."

"They are in disarray my lord," the usually proud potions master had his head bowed in submission "Potter is being more overbearing than usual. Dumbledore has no choice but to request a momentary ceasefire to bargain for their captured members."

"Do you hear that Hermione?" he pushed the blade deeper into her skin "Should we concede with your oh so noble leader?"

Hermione's mind fired a mile a minute. She was too overcome with dread to comprehend her captors mocking question or feel her tender flesh tearing open. Nothing at that moment made any sense. A million thoughts raced through her head ranging from mild disbelief to outright denial. Everything she thought she knew about her enemy was shattered before her very eyes as her ally stood there bowing reverently to the seemingly normal middle-aged man. I just couldn't be.

"Voldemort."

A frightfully delighted smile lit up his face as the terrified whisper left her lips.

"Ten points to Gryffindor Miss Granger." Voldemort purred in her ear, retracting the blade from her side and smearing blood across her cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione had been covered in her own blood numerous of times. Injury after all was one of deaths distant cousins. She had been sliced open many a time in the battlefield. It was some sort of sick inside joke among the death eaters to hurl cutting hexes instead of the typical stunner at muggleborns. A little show they liked to put on for their own twisted amusement. Watching the filthy blood that is sacrilege to their society spill onto the dirty floor. It was symbolic of everything they believe.

Never had Hermione experienced the humiliation of having a bigot, in this case their leader, who despised her very existence, smear her own blood across her face. She always prided herself in being a muggleborn. Not even the prejudiced Slytherins with their relentless bullying made her feel disgraced about her parentage. Voldemort's simple act was symbolic in its own right. It hurt far more than any torture ever will.

Snape's bowed figure was blurred as tears welled in her eyes, but she never let them fall. She would never give any of them the satisfaction of breaking Hermione Grangers spirit like that.

Hermione blinked back her tears and used her skills in Legilimency to mentally reach out to her professor.

Snape's leanings were always a massive debate among Order members. Especially between Harry and herself. The majority consensus was that the potions master was an untrustworthy coward, running to Dumbledore for protection after his master first perished. That distrust was only cemented after Voldemort's resurrection.

Hermione being the logical person she was decided to give him the benefit of doubt after ruminating on his actions in the past. She also reasoned if Dumbledore trusted him than that was good enough.

Her good faith was crushed when her attempt was met with an aggressive mental push from the professor, amounting to a literal fuck off.

Red hot fury coursed through her.

"Traitor!" she shouted at him, twisting in the arms of her captor.

His refusal to meet her gaze even after the outburst sent another wave of rage flowing. So powerful was Hermione's anger, clumps of her hair began to rise and crackle with static.

She landed in a heap after being unexpectedly released. Her unadulterated fury spiked to a point whereby random objects shattered into microscopic fragments.

Had it been any other wizard witnessing such a magnificent display of raw power, they would have slowly backed away in terror, but Voldemort wasn't just anybody.

When Hermione turned her face to disdainfully regard him, she wasn't met with wrath or punishment. Instead there was an impression of approval. A glinting sheen of greed glazed his eyes.

Voldemort took a step toward her, reaching out to offer an upturned hand without bending down.

"Join my ranks Hermione."

It wasn't a request, despite his polite tone, it was a demand.

When Hermione joined the Order, she was well aware of the magnitude of her decision. A dozen scenarios flitted through her mind of all the dreadful things that could befall her, but never in a million years would she have even imagined these words uttered from Voldemort himself.

She ignored his hand with a sniff of derision identical to that of Draco Malfoy and stood up "Why? I was under the impression that my kind was beneath you and your zealots."

Voldemort remained calculatingly impassive "Oh but you are my dear."

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze "But sometimes one must learn to adapt in order piece together the big picture."

Hermione didn't move her face. Her defiant gaze hardened as it bore into his.

"If you think for a second that I will abandon my cause merely because you think I'm just a little less unworthy compared to others like me then you are sorely mistaken."

His azure orbs flickered with a dangerous flash.

"Is that a challenge Hermione?" he smirked.

Hermione frowned in exasperation, hardly believing that she is having this conversation with Voldemort of all people. Everything about him was so unlike anything Harry or Dumbledore told her. In her mind, Lord Voldemort was a snake like monstrosity driven mad by splitting his soul in too many pieces. He was irrational and psychopathic, so distinct from the person that stood there before her. He seemed so human. She couldn't decide which was more terrifying. The monster she knew him to be or the superficially normal man that he tries to portray.

"What are you playing at?" she asked in genuine confusion.

"I don't play games Hermione." he replied stiffly.

"Then why all of this?" she looked at him accusingly "Why put up this charade?"

He sincerely seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes wandering to the smear of blood on her face.

"Because Hermione," his lips curled with derision "I am not one to make the same mistake twice."

Hermione's inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing when his cryptic statement hit home. The topic of Harry Potter never failed to ruffle her feathers when it came out the mouths of his enemies.

"You can sweet talk me all you want Voldemort. I would rather die by your hand than even consider taking it."

His smirk sent a shudder through her. It had a victorious edge as if she played right into his hand. "Severus, take Draco to the dungeons. I am sure Miss Weasley would appreciate familiar faces escorting her towards a tragic fate."

Voldemort's malicious stare made her want to throw up

"Leave Ginny out of this." she yelled

"Why should I Hermione?" his voice was chilled as it rose a notch.

"Because your displeasure is with me." her voice cracked. She hated herself for it.

A storm brewed behind his visage; its viciousness etched across his face. He eliminated the space between them, and Hermione unconsciously readied herself for a surge of unimaginable pain. She flinched when he lifted his arm but instead of a curse, he tugged on a frizzy curl.

"You only have yourself to blame Miss Granger. You should have thought about the consequences carefully before you dared to turn me away."

Their stare down was interrupted by four people entering the room. The temperature seemed to drop as they walked in, a petrified Ginny hanging on Snape's arm trembling. Tears flowed like rivers down her face as she struggled to unhinge her arm from his grasp.

"I see you have invited Antonin to our little gathering. You always were the most proactive agent in my ranks Severus. I am pleased"

Voldemort turned his head to face Hermione once again "Have you ever had the pleasure of Dolohov's acquaintance Hermione? He is most proficient with a rather painful unforgivable."

His voice was casual, as if he made a remark on the weather rather than inhumane torture. Hermione on the other hand regarded their new arrivals with disgusted contempt. Malfoy stared blankly ahead, almost as if he was asleep on his feet. The blood trails on his face thanks to Hermione's fit of rage was dried and crusted. She couldn't help but note how it ironically mimicked her own crimson defacement.

Snape on the other hand abruptly let go of Ginny's arm when her scornful stare jumped to him. His face was a blank canvas as she fell onto the floor shaking violently, sobbing pitifully into the carpet.

Her cries seemed to echo throughout the room to the beat of Hermione's pounding heart. In an adrenaline-fueled impulse she leaped toward her friend, shouting out her name in despairing earnestness. She barely made it an inch when a pale hand caught her hair in a death grip.

Hermione yelped as she was forcefully dragged back. Her hands automatically reached for the offending appendage in a failed attempt to free herself.

Voldemort tightened his grip and her face contorted with discomfort as he forced her line of vision to meet Ginny. Her eyes began to water, as no amount of struggle allowed her relief. She begrudgingly allowed herself to move per his will and stood there like a statue against him.

With the briefest of nods from his master, Dolohov lashed at Ginny, crucioing her within an inch of her life.

Cries of anguish pierced through the air. So deafening was Ginny Weasley's screams, Draco snapped out of his reverie. He seemed to have paled even more, something Hermione thought impossible, and rapidly averted his gaze to anything else besides the squirming girl.

Hermione began to struggle once again, pleading with their tormenter to stop.

He regarded her with a scowl "See what happens when one dares to defy the will of Lord Voldemort."

Ginny was spluttering blood, staining the beige carpet when he pulled Hermione closer.

"This is all your doing," his voice thick with eerie calm as he spoke into her ear, not taking his eyes of the disturbing display of suffering "You could make it all stop if you like. Join me Hermione. With you by my side there is nothing that could stand in my way."

She wasn't sure what reaction he was trying to compel from her but as far as she was concerned, it will never be assent.

"I'd rather die." she spat disparagingly.

He released her and lifted his arm in a silent command at Dolohov to cease fire.

"Have it your way then" he said coolly, stepping in front of her.

They stood shoulder to shoulder. In an instant he flourished his wand and pointed it toward the weeping adolescent.

"You may disregard your own life, but I am positive Miss Weasley cares immensely whether she lives or dies."

His stifling blue orbs never left her

"The ball is in your court as you muggles like to say."

A small part of Hermione, the one hardened and stripped bare of that innocent selfless girl she once was, the one that steadfastly held on to Dumbledore's philosophy of sacrifice for the greater good because she knew, and she saw firsthand the horrors of their reality. That traitorous voice of common sense nearly allowed Ginny to be killed.

It wasn't a consideration of selfishness but one of logic. Hermione knew despite her passion for the light, Ginny wasn't much of an asset to the Order as she was. She also was very aware of the consequences that came with deflecting to the dark. Hermione wasn't just a mere soldier that fought bravely, she was the treasure trove of crucial intel.

She gave a damn who lived or died between the two of them, her priority was what's best for the Order.

Hermione's eyes drifted from Ginny's battered form towards the Dark Lord. She opened her mouth to boldly refuse him once again when her ally's voice stopped her.

"Don't do it M'ione" she spluttered weakly, blood pouring freely from between her lips.

It took Hermione all her will power to not burst into tears.

Ginny Weasley might not be as smart or useful, but she was brave. Most importantly she was good to a fault. Just like her Harry.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. So much alike in their righteousness.

Hermione shakily ran her hand through her hair as raw sickening guilt gnawed at her insides.

How could she forget Harry?

What about his happiness. The way he smiles when Ginny is in his arms. That feeling of love and belonging and safety when he is with her. Didn't all the sacrifices in name of the greater good destroy his life so many times already?

Hermione did many things in her life that robbed her innocence but to cost her best friend his everything would not be one of them.

She turned herself to face Voldemort fully with grim determination.

"I will do it." she whispered in defeat.

A smile of satisfaction graced his face, but this time Hermione was too numb with exhaustion to be furious with herself.

"You will do what Hermione?" he asked for the sole purpose of adding insult to injury.

"What ever you want." she murmured, offering her upturned palm toward him.


	7. Chapter 7

_It was mid-July. I remember the thick air of humidity that hung over the cramped rooms of the orphanage. The way our raggedy uniforms clung to our tiny underfed frames. How every patron stared at the tall bearded man in alarm at the outrageous cloak he donned. I should have known at first glance that I was dealing with an insane fool but the naiveite of an eleven-year-old allowed me to be swayed. _

_He introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore and handed me a letter. I always knew I was of a special sort, for the first time in my short life span I remembered truly being happy. It didn't last very long. _

_He regarded me with a gentle smile, yet his eyes were filled with anger and distrust. _

_So overcome with fear at something he didn't quite fully understand that he judged a mere child, broken and left alone in this wretched world, at how he defended himself. _

_Humiliation washed over me as I apologized to my peers, returning their trinkets, promising to be on my best behavior. _

_I was too enthralled by this new world he opened up, scared witless to lose this opportunity, to even defend myself when the older children once again choose me to bare the brunt of their accosting. _

_I was weak. Hopeless. Frightened. _

_Never did the old fool even consider how difficult it was for a boy like me to be among a different kind. Albus Dumbledore never could look passed his dense halfmoon spectacles at the bigger picture. Once he decided what was best, he enforced his word with no regard of those affected. _

_He took away something from me that day. He didn't stop taking._

* * *

The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione could feel the stares of its occupants bore into her. She felt vulnerable, naked, standing there with her hand out in submission as if Voldemort stripped her bare of all value and self-respect.

In a way he did.

His eyes searched her face with an unreadable countenance "And how do you propose we seal this deal?"

Hermione reluctantly dragged her intent stare from the ground "An unbreakable vow."

Voldemort let out a breath of sardonic mirth "So you can jump off the south tower as soon as I send Miss Weasley back to her Order?"

Hermione tried her best to steer her attention from the girl in question as she fisted the carpet stained by her own blood and tears, in an attempt to fight off the lingering effects of the unforgivable.

"Then what method of binding do you deem fit?" she bit out through gritted teeth.

There was a sour taste in her mouth as if all her self-loathing and dismay manifested itself on the tip of her tongue.

Voldemort drew out the silence, allowing Hermione to stew in her own trepidation at the unknown fate she blindly agreed to. He could have easily punished her with a dark array of curses or even imperioed her to worship the dirt under his boots, but he didn't. Brute force wasn't his style anymore. Not after Harry Potter.

His methods were now purely psychological. After all the mind is mankind's greatest weapon and there's no other instrument Voldemort wielded more formidably than his own. There was nothing he couldn't accomplish if he bent the psyches of his subordinates to his will.

So he did with alarmingly dangerous talent.

He always did have a flair for it. Since his youthful days as Tom Riddle, recruiting dogmatic purebloods to his cause. Even going as far to sway the malleable minds of half-bloods. Yet, aside for a selected few, obedience didn't amount to competence.

When Hermione Granger was captured, he knew that fate had bestowed him a grand favor. Much had been discussed about the girl, she was among their greatest deterrents, she was certainly special. His nature of possessing that of the extra ordinary took over. He desired her under his command and what Lord Voldemort coveted he attained by any means.

It was incredibly simple to him. An intelligent and remarkable individual like Hermione can only be the reason for her own downfall. Backing her into a corner, giving the illusion of a choice, albeit an impossible one, was child splay. She was breaking, slowly, meticulously by his hand.

He didn't give her an answer, watching her squirm under his gaze caused a rush of amusement bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Hemione watched him in startled discomfort as he flipped his wand into the air, catching it swiftly in a burst of childlike delight.

She looked to his followers standing by the doorway as if to make sure they too are witnessing this burst of utter insanity.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Ginny was stunned, sprawled like a ragdoll near Dolohov's feet. A thin veil of light blanketed her, pulsating ominously.

Hermione watched helplessly as the beam collected itself at her center, twining nimbly to the tip of his wand.

He allowed it to stagnate, the light of Ginny's essence casting a glow on his face, and wordlessly took her outreached hand. The touch of his palm caused goosebumps to crawl up her arm. It was only debilitating fear that made her hesitate to shove off his grasp when he began hissing lowly in parseltongue.

The light turned a deep crimson as it swayed to the eerie melody of an ancient language. Voldemort's smooth hypnotizing baritone made her ears ring and although the room was sufficiently warm she began shivering violently.

In a flash of incomprehensible speed, the beam leapt ferociously. It coiled around the length of Hermione's arm, consequently binding her to Voldemort in a concentrated magical rope.

She could feel the searing heat emanating from its aura. Spirals of black smoke curled from the surface of her skin and the atmosphere of the study was saturated with the odor of charred flesh.

Voldemort hardly flinched.

Barely a second ticked by and with a flash of color the spell absorbed into their skin.

Hermione was on her knees, her scorched arm cradled to her chest. Her breathing was labored as she gingerly ran her finger over the singed watery corner of a serpentine scar.

She tore her eye away from the fanged creature poised for attack, much like the toothy smile Voldemort donned before he fired an especially crafty spell and was greeted by the man himself crouched to her level on one knee.

"A word to the wise Hermione," his teeth glinted in the light "be very wary of defying me else little Ginny Weasley would bear the consequences."

"Take the girl directly to Dumbledore," he addressed Snape as he stood "and don't bother healing her injuries. Let it be a stark reminder that I am not to be trifled with."

With a nonchalant wave they were all dismissed.

* * *

Time fused into space. The hallway she walked through stretched out before her with no end in sight. Dusty ornaments melted into the forest green wallpaper. The embroidery on the drawn draperies tumbled over one another and the echoes of her feet on the floorboards harmonized with the feint pounding in her head.

Hermione was vaguely aware of being led somewhere. Her surroundings were blurred around the edges. Everything was entrenched in a sporadic limbo as her mind failed to grasp its basic faculties.

The outline of her new scar was all that existed. She traced over the rare indented skin obsessively.

A faraway click registered in her brain, bringing her neurotic tracing to a halfway stop as she was ushered into a dark room.

Hermione gaped into the distance, completely unaware of a syrupy substance gently being fed to her.

It dripped from her half-opened mouth and passed her chin as she came to her senses. Gradually the specks of dust floating about sharpened and the room came into focus.

The air was stuffy her eyes roamed the area. Empty bottles littered the small space, dusty and turned grey with age. The sofa she was seated on was ripped to pieces and the walls were spotted with numerous dents here and there.

"Welcome back to earth Granger."

Hermione jumped in surprise, swiftly standing to pinpoint the source of her little scare. Her gaze zoned in on the young man seated by the foot of an unmade bed.

Draco leaned on the bedpost, swinging a bottle of firewhiskey back and forth with a stony expression on his worn face. His cloak was abandoned on the floor and two buttons on his liquor stained oxford was undone. He looked the complete opposite of a snobbish, uptight upperclassmen that she knew him to be. In fact, at that very moment, Draco Malfoy's indecorous, shabby appearance staggeringly reflected Hermione's emotional state so damn frightfully that all she could do is gape in astonishment.

"Don't you know its rude to stare?" his voice was low, exhausted, as if he couldn't bear to speak.

She swallowed apprehensively, remembering his embarrassing take down by her hand, and tentatively inched toward the door.

"I'm not going to hurt you Granger," he got up with a heave, staggering to the mini bar and pouring a drink "somebody stole my wand."

He shot her a sneer.

"Besides, father had always emphasized that Malfoy men would never stoop so low as to strike a woman. Even if she is an irritating know it all."

Draco handed her an antiquated glass topped to the brim with alcohol. Hermione warily took it with a look of disbelief.

The young Malfoy chuckled darkly at her expression "That was before lost his fucking head."

Hermione stared at her drink in discomfort, completely out of her depth. So many shockingly awful things happened to her in a short space of time that standing there, sharing a drink with her childhood bully seemed almost normal.

Her finger found its way back to the scar, now clotted and gummy in its early stages of healing. She tried her utmost best to absorb that day's eventful trauma while casually downing her whiskey in one go.

Hermione felt oddly energized while being completely apathetic as she sat there mirroring the nonchalance of her company.

She eyed him with a blank stare, forcing her mind to grind its gears "What did you give me?"

Hermione knew that she ought to be furious, yet she couldn't find it in herself to care about anything. She felt blissfully numbed to the core.

Draco snorted as he kicked off his shoes, once again leaning on the bed post "Didn't know you were blind as well as daft. It's obviously firewhiskey."

He rolled his eyes obnoxiously as Hermione fixated a scathing glare in his direction.

"Fine," he tossed his now empty bottle on the floor "It's my own special take on the Drought of Peace. You're not the only one adept at potions Granger."

She sat there utterly stupefied, attempting to process what he had said. Half an hour passed by until she gathered her mental faculties in order to address him.

"You drugged me?"

Malfoy was spread-eagled on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling when he turned to answer, "You're welcome."

"Was I that bad?" Hermione flopped sideways into the couch.

Draco's snickering seemed to bounce off the wall "Much much worse."

Peace filled the space as they laid there, lost carelessly in their own thoughts

"Why are you doing this?" Hermione broke the silence, lifting her head to regard him "Help me out like this?"

"Aren't I just a filthy little mudblood to you?"

A dozen emotions flitted in his steely grey eyes, ranging from melancholy to bitter regret. He was silent for a while, as if pondering a befitting reply.

"Because you're just like me Granger," he thought aloud, running his fingers through his white blonde hair.

Hermione grabbed a bottle nearest to her and chucked it at his head. Her motions were floppy and aim entirely off the mark. It crashed against the wall, shattering to jagged pieces among its unfortunate counterparts.

"We're nothing alike. I'm no prejudiced coward."

She wanted to be enraged but all emotion evaded her.

Draco on the other hand had a tone of mad irritation "And contrary to what you think Granger, you know absolutely fuck all."

The clock in the far corner of the room ticked on as they both fell into an intoxicated slumber.


	8. Chapter 8

**TRIGGER WARNING- Brief mention of self harm **

War much like life, is a very fickle thing. One moment you're lured in a false sense of comfort, in the arms of an ally, a friend, and the next your heart is stilled, much like the moment of a curses impact on that very symbol of what your life should be.

It wasn't entirely her fault, at least that's what she tried to tell herself during months of self-loathing. She didn't ask Oliver to love her the way he did.

Love Hermione enough to hurl himself in front of the killing curse meant for her.

Perhaps it was an empty yearning for intimacy, a longing for a caricature of love, brought about by trying and desperate times. Or maybe it was the euphoria and adrenaline from a small victory mingled with the anxiety of an existential crises spurred from constantly being in the presence of death.

All Hermione knew was that she had never lived, nor will live, the life she had always dreamed about. That she will eventually die attempting to salvage all that she can of the world in the name of posterity.

So when their eyes met from across the room, in a fancy muggle hotel in which the pair was stationed in for a stakeout, Hermione threw all caution to the wind.

To her it was an escape. A few stolen moments of passion here and there so that she can finally breathe, lost momentarily in a world of fantasy.

To Oliver, however, it was his only shot at love and companionship. A simple misunderstanding that would eventually cost him his life.

It was an incident that would eventually cause her to finally close the door on the girl she once was.

When Hermione opened her eyes to rays of the sunset peeking in through the curtains, she was greeted with heart stopping nostalgia. Sometime during her inebriated sleep she was moved to a much nicer wing of Malfoy Manor. In what seemed to be a cruel joke at her expense from the universe, her sleeping quarters jarringly resembled the décor of a hotel room she would rather not remember.

She barely acknowledged the stuttering house elf who stood at the foot of her bed as she sprinted out of there, slamming the door in haste.

Hermione leaned against the wall, taking in a few deep breaths to calm her rapid heart rate. Her mind unleashed an onslaught of unwanted memories at her. Snippets of Oliver's face flashed by. For a second she could have sworn she felt his calloused hand gently lifting her chin and his lips on hers.

In sheer panic, Hermione dug her fingers into her forearm, ripping the serpentine scab apart. She focused only on the pain, the sensation of blood trickling down and hitting the carpet with dull thuds, a sharp rush of electricity shooting itself into the wound and slowly the hallucination faded into the dying afternoon light.

She stood there in a daze for hours, unmoving. She didn't trust herself to move even when the sound of aggressive whispers came from the turn into the corridor.

"Theo stop it right now!"

"Why should I? I can't do this anymore Blaise."

The sound of shattering porcelain made her ear prickle in curiosity. In an absurdly disturbing switch of mindset, Hermione straightened her back and strained her ears, the soldier in her pummeling its way back to her consciousness.

"You are going to get yourself killed."

"I'm not afraid anymore. If they kill me so be it."

Hermione eyes drifted to the ground, glancing at the toe of black boot peeking from behind the turn and instinctively she hightailed in the opposite direction before her former classmates entered the corridor.

She barely took note of where she was going in her frenzy to evade them. The twisting maze that was Malfoy Manor seemed to close in on her. As if she was in a nightmare, the corridors seemed to get longer and her legs heavier. Eventually she turned into a dead end. The air of the passageway seemed cooler somehow, like a light summer breeze dancing across your bare skin. She inched closer to the double doors of Voldemort's sanctuary fully aware of the fact that she was about to enter the den of an especially venomous snake but she could hardly stop herself.

Hermione slowly pushed the door with trembling hands. The weighty double door's glided open with no effort by her touch, revealing the back of Lord Voldemort who was staring intently at an antiquated compass radiating dark energy.

So potent was the magic, Hermione had a difficult time pinpointing what exactly was the source. The object itself or the man holding it.

"So it does work," he turned around to face her and threw the compass in the air with and delighted half laugh.

As swift as a seeker Voldemort caught the object in mid air and held it up to show her "Do you know what this is Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head dumbly. Once again taken aback at such a childish display that only somehow added to his charm. It was incredibly disturbing to her how such an evil man can exhibit such magnetism though she was not surprised. History has proven that tyrants were always the best wielders of charisma.

"It's a compulsion compass. Centuries ago pureblood grooms used it to lure their dissenting brides to their bedchambers."

Hermione's lip curled in disgust as she stared at the offending magical object.

Voldemort chuckled darkly as he examined the artifact "The Malfoys were always a sick bunch."

He breathed in deeply, his face slowly turning into a look of boredom as he tossed the compass onto the desk in apathy. Voldemort walked over to where she stood and placed his hand on her shoulders, forcing her to sit. Bile rose into her mouth at his touch and she shuddered.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered, looking up at his standing figure distrustfully "Is it information? Do you want me to become your spy?"

Her voice rose with each question, apprehension bloomed in her chest as her mind swirled with rapid thoughts on how to escape this situation.

Hermione's apprehension multiplied when Voldemort merely smirked in amusement.

"A spy? I am afraid that position is already taken my dear."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in fury at his implication of her professor. Mostly because she knew it was true. Raw magical energy pooled itself in her chest, fueled by her anger.

After all that Dumbledore did for him, Severus Snape chose to betray them. The very same people who relied on him, tolerated him and her who chose to defend him. The magical energy accumulating reached its peak and Hermione felt as she was about to combust. Unable to hold it in any longer, Hermione dug her nails into her palm as her magic flooded the room, shattering the windows.

Voldemort barely flinched almost as if such a display was the norm.

Hermione on the other hand breathed rapidly as a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She weakly rose from her seat and walked to the exit, not sparing Voldemort a glance.

"Stop." he demanded in a low voice.

Hermione had no intention of obeying him yet her feet glued itself to the floor. She slowly turned around and walked toward him, her body defying its own will. Voldemort cocked his head as he met her confused gaze. He plucked the discarded compass of his desk and held it up to her face as to answer her silent question.

Hermione's eyes widened in terror. She wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide. Helplessness wrapped itself around her as her breathing quickened "Are you.."

The expression on Voldemort's face was impassive. His eyes were steely as he regarded her.

"Don't fret Hermione. I am a man of honor. I plan to marry you first."


End file.
